Becoming His Wife by Hayley Faiman

Chapter Twenty-Two

TIZIANO

The shouting and the shooting stops after what feels like an hour, but is probably only seconds. Duran runs toward me from the front of the car and sinks down on his haunches.

“You’re good?” he asks.

Nodding, I force myself to stand. “Don’t have a gun,” I remind him.

He jerks his chin. “Right. That will change after tonight,” he announces. “Get in, we need to see Di Stefano.”

Fuck, again.

Climbing into the back seat, I slam the door before I ask them what the fuck that was that just happened. Aldo is sitting next to me, and he clears his throat as he turns to me. Calvino is on the phone with Elio while Duran drives to Di Stefano’s.

“That was the rival famiglia. They’re not as big, nor as powerful as us. They do attempt to take us down, at least our men, anytime that they can. It’s a shock that they tried in a Di Stefano famiglia-owned building.

“Typically, they are nothing more than a nuisance. They fuck with us when we’re in neutral, or what they have tried to claim as their territory. They’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Which is why we’re going straight to Di Stefano,” I surmise.

“Exactly.”

I don’t know why I thought that we would be going to an office building, but instead we go directly to Di Stefano’s home, the same place I was at only two weeks ago when my wife was dragged away and I was threatened by my father.

Wordlessly, the three of us make our way up the entrance steps. Duran is first, he doesn’t even bother to knock before he just reaches for the knob and turns the handle, pushing the door open. I fall in line behind Aldo, and Calvino brings up the rear as we make our way inside.

Duran walks directly toward Di Stefano’s office. The office door is open and the man himself is sitting behind his desk. He looks like he hasn’t moved in two weeks, and I offhandedly wonder if his ass is glued to the office chair.

I don’t bother sitting down this time in any of the seats. Instead, I stand toward the back of the room and clasp my hands in front of me, watching and waiting to see what is going to happen.

Though, I figure I won’t understand much. My Italian is getting better, I’m still lost ninety percent of the time. But, to my surprise the entire meeting is conducted in English, no doubt for my benefit only.

“It was the Mazzas,” Duran announces.

“At the hotel?” Di Stefano asks.

Duran nods his head. “At the hotel,” he confirms.

“This is war,” Di Stefano barks as he slams his fist down on the desk.

“Also,” Duran begins. “Tiziano needs a gun. He was exposed, had nothing for protection.”

Di Stefano jerks his chin toward me, his gaze focusing on mine, then clears his throat before he leans back in his chair. He doesn’t look away, in fact, he almost makes me uncomfortable with as long and hard as he’s watching me. Then he sits up and leans forward, placing his elbows on his desk as he watches me.

“Can we trust you, Bianchi?” he asks.

I’m taken aback by his words, by his question. Clearing my throat, I take a step forward and release my hands so that they’re hanging loosely at my side.

“Apparently, my father is someone who can’t be trusted, considering he’s put a price on my head. I could tell you that you could trust me, but what would be the point? Words are just that.”

Di Stefano nods his head, then watches me for another moment. I still don’t know what he’s looking for, but he must find it.

“He can have a gun,” he states as he rises to his feet. Then his eyes flick over to meet mine again. “One misstep and you’ll be put down.”

Dipping my chin, I don’t disagree with him. I would do the same if I were in his position. “It’s fair,” I say.

Elio told me that I needed to just wait, and I plan on doing just that. I plan on biding my time until I can get back to New York, back to Maci. I’m not going to just take this shit that my father is shoveling.

I’m going to get my famiglia and my wife back all at once. If he thinks that he can just put a price on my head as a means to control me, he has another goddamn thing coming his way. But for now, I dip my chin.

“I will not let you down, Boss,” I say.

He grins as he watches me and jerks his chin. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll get this started with the Mazza famiglia. If they think that they can come into my territory and start shit with my men, they have another thing coming.”

We all dip our chins as a sign of respect and leave Di Stefano’s office. I fall in line, walking toward the door when he calls out my name. The rest of the men keep going, but I stop and turn around to face him.

His eyes find mine and I can tell that the boss is gone and now I’m looking at Di Stefano, the man.

“I didn’t agree with what you did, I agreed less with what your father did,” he states. “I won’t punish you for anything that happened. As far as I’m concerned, you’re trustworthy until you prove yourself otherwise, not the other way around.”

Dipping my chin, I don’t break eye contact with him. “Thanks, Boss. It’s appreciated.”

“Don’t fuck me over.”

“Don’t plan on it.”

Leaving his office, I jog toward the waiting car and slip inside. Duran takes off toward our apartment and I can’t stop thinking about Di Stefano’s words. You’re trustworthy until you prove yourself otherwise.

How often do we truly believe that as people? I know that I don’t.

I don’t trust a fucking soul, at least I didn’t, not until I met these men. For the first time in my entire goddamn life, I had no choice but to trust them and so far, it’s been nothing but good. So, maybe there is something to that theory.

You’re trustworthy until you prove yourself otherwise.

Or maybe it will all bite me in the ass. I can’t be sure. Hopefully, it turns out for the best, hopefully I get Maci back soon. I’ve always considered myself a fairly patient person, but two weeks has felt like a lifetime and I’m not sure I could go on like this for years.

MACI

The days passand they melt into weeks and I am no closer to seeing Tiziano. I’m also sick. Hugging the toilet, I moan as my stomach clenches. I can’t keep anything down at all, I want to cry, and I do cry. The tears slide down my cheeks as I rest my forehead against my arm.

“You have a bit of a problem here,” a voice says behind me.

Turning my head, I look back to see Pippa standing a few feet away. I don’t know how she ended up here, but I’m glad to see her.

“I do?” I ask weakly.

She snorts. “You’re pregnant,” she announces before tossing a bag in my direction.

Reaching out, I catch the bag, but I don’t look inside of it. It’s light and I have a feeling it’s a pregnancy test, but I can’t even look at it, I’m far too busy staring at her in complete shock. I shake my head slowly.

“What?” I breathe.

She snorts. “You’re pregnant,” she repeats.

“I heard you… I just don’t know what to say to that.”

“Pee on the stick,” she orders.

Pressing my lips together, I think about Tiziano. I think about our honeymoon and I realize that we never once discussed birth control or children at all whatsoever. Shaking my head from side to side, I pinch my eyes closed. We had a lot of sex that week, like a lot, a lot. I don’t know why I hadn’t even thought of it.

“We never talked about children,” I whisper.

Pippa laughs. “They don’t. These Made Men only know how to have sex with their wives one way and that’s ungloved. They want babies, housefuls of them, hundreds of them. He wouldn’t have talked to you about it, because it wasn’t something he felt he needed to discuss at all.”

“Well, isn’t that just fantastic,” I deadpan.

She smiles, watching me for a long moment. “It’s their way.”

“What happens if this is positive?”

“When it’s positive?”

Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I try not to think about what would happen if it was positive, at the same time knowing that it probably is. I can’t even remember the last time I had my period and I’ve been back from Italy for a few weeks. I should have had it again at least by now. I have been so busy, so stressed out, I didn’t even think about it.

“Yes,” I grind out.

She smiles. “Then we go from there. The famiglia will take care of you.”

My eyes water and I try really hard not to cry, but I fail. Tears fall down my cheeks. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want the famiglia to take care of me, I want my husband to take care of me. I can’t do this, I can’t have a baby with my husband being somewhere in Italy, his return completely unknown—honestly, he’s probably never going to come back to me.

“Take the test, then we go from there,” Pippa urges before she sinks her teeth in her bottom lip and turns around.

She leaves me alone in the bathroom and I stare at the paper bag in my hand. I look at the bag, afraid to open it, afraid of everything in my life right now, but as I always do, I suck it up and pull the test out.

Reading the instructions painfully carefully, I do exactly what it says and I set it on the counter, on a flat surface, then wait. I can’t watch and I wonder when Salvatore is going to bust in here and tell me to get back to work, because I’ve been in here a while.

Closing my eyes, I try not to watch the test as I wait for the results. Reaching for the test, I pinch my eyes closed before I look, although I probably know the answer deep down, even if I don’t want to admit it to myself. Inhaling a deep breath, I open my eyes as I let the breath out and I whimper at the sight.

Pregnant.

Thank God Pippa got one of the tests that was digital, I don’t think that I could remember what color or how many lines to look for right now. Shaking, I reach for the doorknob and twist. Pulling the door open, I gasp at the sight in front of me.

Not only is Pippa standing there, but so is Salvatore, Arlo, and Gavino.

“I’m sorry, they needed to know. Salvatore’s been worried you were sick,” Pippa whispers.

I wonder if she really brought them all here because he thought I was sick, or if she wanted to make sure that they knew I was pregnant, make sure that I didn’t hide it from them. I should probably be mad, but I’m not. I would have tried to hide it for as long as possible.

“I’m pregnant,” I whisper.

There is a long moment of silence, my gaze is focused on my shoes and when nobody speaks, I lift my head and look at the small crowd in front of me. Pippa gives me a sad smile and a nod, but it’s Arlo, Gavino, and Salvatore that are frowning.

“Cazzo,” Gavino snaps.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper, afraid that he’s going to tell me that he can’t take care of me and a baby. I wouldn’t blame him, but I need his help, otherwise I’m pregnant, penniless, and homeless.

Gavino shakes his head. “Nothing to be sorry for, just shit timing. I can’t get Tiziano back before it arrives,” he explains.

My heart drops to my stomach and I realize that he’s not mad at me, he’s mad at the situation. I could ask him a dozen questions, a million even, but I don’t bother. My words are all jumbled in my head. I’m nineteen and I’m going to have a baby. I don’t know anything about babies and I’m going to bring one into this world—alone.

“How does the annulment go through now?” Arlo asks, shifting his gaze from me to Salvatore.

Salvatore doesn’t look away from me, instead something crosses his face, but I don’t understand what it means. He’s so closed off, but he’s showing me this and I mistake it for pity. Turning my head, I look down at my feet again, unsure of where to look or what to do.

“It continues as is,” Salvatore murmurs. “Tussio cannot know about the child. He cannot try to take claim.”

My head pops up at Salvatore’s words. “Take claim?” I exhale.

He nods his head once. “The government wouldn’t do it, but our rules don’t follow the government’s. If he finds out and you’re still bound to Tiziano, he could technically get control over you and the child as Tiziano’s father and a boss in his own right.”

Placing my hand on my belly, I shake my head a couple of times. “Never,” I hiss.

Salvatore nods his head. “Then the annulment goes through, and you stay out of sight as much as possible.”

“Should we put her in a safe house?” Arlo asks.

Salvatore shrugs. “We could.”

“Or?” I ask when he doesn’t finish.

He clears his throat. “She could live with someone. She will need help anyway.”

There is a long moment of silence, and the men look at one another, none of them speaking. They’re having some sort of silent conversation and they’re not letting me in on whatever it is. And they all jerk their chins, turning and walking away from me and toward Salvatore’s office, a clue that I won’t be let in on the conversation anytime soon.

“It’s all going to be okay,” Pippa whispers.

Turning to her, I try to give her a shaky smile before I murmur. “I hope so.”